Tales from Thailand- Part VIII Meditation Complications

Saying goodbye to my dad when leaving China to catch my flight back to Bangkok was incredibly difficult for me. I missed my family and friends terribly, and getting to spend time with him had renewed the ache of not seeing them. When I was looking to leave India, I had convinced myself that it was ok to go back to Thailand because I would be looking for jobs; it was ok to not go home yet because I had a legitimate reason to stay. I still hadn’t come to terms with what exactly I was doing going to all these places. Traveling just for the sake of traveling? In my world this was unheard of; I had never known anyone who had done this. At least you must be going to school, at least you must be working, at least you must be volunteering, doing a program, visiting friends, something, anything! Otherwise it starts to seem like a long-term vacation, which is idleness, which is condemnable. What place can this have in our culture where what you produce defines who you are? Except I was being productive… in my own personal growth. But I had not yet come to value this as a justifiable way to invest my time.

So I lied to myself. I went to back to Chiang Mai, the city I had stayed in for my course, and found a comfortable room to rent in a Thai woman’s quaint teak home-converted-guest house. I met several nice people there and started to get to know the town by bicycle. For almost an entire month, I struggled with whether I would feel ok to postpone my return to the US by one year! I had thus far been successful in casting off the burden of unalterable plans, but this seemed like too much of a stretch from my original plan of returning to the US in mid-September after volunteering in India for a few weeks. I never thought it would be so soon that I would take such a long leave from seeing my family and friends. If I had already planned on settling I would have most certainly packed more than three shirts and three pairs of pants! So my heart wasn’t really in it when I sent emails inquiring about teaching jobs; I knew that the real way to get a job in Thailand is to show up in person and apply.

Anxiety continued to build until I felt ready to explode. Wasn’t I wasting time? Didn’t I just spend money on TWO flights back to this country on the premise of searching for jobs? If I left already, wouldn’t I regret not looking? I needed some peace of mind. That’s when I thought of something that had actually been on my mind since arriving in Asia: a meditation retreat. A 10-day foray into my own consciousness, foregoing communication with the outside world and postponing my progress in the job hunt… It seemed the epitome of selfishness, and was therefore very freeing. I finally was able to make the decision to take care of my own personal well-being without worrying about what else and who else I was taking care of.

I called the meditation center a friend had recommended to ask for information on retreats and the monk on the other end exclaimed “Hurry! One starts in 3 hours!” Nervous as all hell, but committed to the philosophy of “go with the flow” that I had recently begun pushing myself to use for the first time in my life, I agreed and hung up the phone. Swiftly, I packed and caught a taxi to the mall so that I could purchase the white clothes (even underwear!) that would be required from the moment of my initiation and onward until the end. I arrived at the temple grounds during the lunch hour and was met by the voice I had heard on the phone. A young Thai man wearing an orange robe and a huge smile greeted me in this serene setting of chedis, bells, and statues of the Buddha, all surrounded by lush greenery. He told me to eat and change into the white clothes and meet him at his office in two hours.

Two other foreigners around my age, a woman and a man, were waiting in the office. After introducing ourselves, the woman immediately mentioned that she felt she wouldn’t make it through the 10 days. “Well you definitely won’t if you think like that,” I thought to myself. Our monk returned and explained the procedure of the opening ceremony. We would enter the teacher’s room on our knees and bow in a certain way three times to the Buddha and then greet the teacher. We would then give offerings of flowers and incense. We would also need to smile visibly during the entire ritual. We practiced all of this several times, and then we were taught the meditation techniques we would be using. I was prepared for the retreat to be intense; however, I was not prepared for the actual form of the meditation to be intense. Although I still consider myself a beginner, I have had an introduction to meditation before, enough to use as a foundation for my current irregular practice. Having become accustomed to this way of meditating, the differences between the methods were clear. Where my familiar technique used some visualization, the Vipassana taught at the center mandated acknowledging feelings that arose and then again concentrating on sitting or walking. The differences, though small, were great enough that I struggled to try the new one, having to actively pull myself away from slipping into my default method; after all, the purpose of being there was to learn Vipassana meditation.

By the time of our initiation, I had had just about as much as I could take. I felt foolish that I had rushed into this; even though I had entertained the thought for a long period prior to actually going there, I thought it would have been more practical if my mind was not going through such an emotional turmoil in terms of determining my immediate future. I decided to go to the initiation anyway, because I hate quitting things and thought that somehow I would start feeling better about the retreat after the ceremony. The teacher was very nice and encouraged us afterwards to keep fighting, because he knew that the prospect of not eating dinner and getting only 6 hours of sleep would be hard for us. I was more concerned about the sitting, sitting, sitting, and walking, walking, walking that I would still have to do in my room until 10pm! When it became apparent that I was just as miserable in the retreat as I had been back at my room in the city with my thoughts, I decided that I had indeed been too rash jumping in as quickly as I did. I decided it was time to leave.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of a gong at 4am. I got out of bed and tried again to do the meditations, but my mind had ultimately been made up the night before. I knew I would not be able to find transport until later in the morning, and I also knew I would not like to eat breakfast at 6 (the food is collected every morning during alms rounds as donations from Buddhist followers outside the monastic community, and I felt that it would be wrong of me to benefit from this because I already intended to leave). I went back to sleep and woke up again at 7 to pack. I attended a closing ceremony of many others who were finishing a 20+ day retreat. I was able to converse with a friendly American female monk who suggested the name of a less intense form of meditation that I could look into before undertaking Vipassana again.

Heading back to town, I felt good about my decision to leave because I was finally hearing my own voice and making decisions that felt good for me. I could do things without worrying about what others would think. By the time I arrived back in town, it was 11am and I hadn’t eaten for the last 23 hours! I immediately went to seek out some chocolate pancakes. I settled back in at my rented room. Within two days I started a yoga class that would provide me 3 hours of practice every morning for a week. This was the perfect answer to my need for means to calm and center myself and organize my thoughts.

So good things did result from the short time I had spent in the meditation retreat. Most importantly, I decided that I felt confident to return home to the US and begin my internet search for year-long contracts to teach abroad, as I had originally planned. I had been away three and a half months, and I was satisfied with the experiences I had had thus far. There was only one other thing left that I had been really wanting to witness: the Festival of Light, Loy Krathong. As it would be taking place on the second of November, I would have to wait almost another two weeks, putting the length of my journey in over four months. I was sure it would be well worth it and I was thrilled that I wouldn’t be missing out. The only problem this created was with my Thai visa because my legal allotment of 30 days would soon be up. This was easily solved however, as all I would have to do to extend it would be to make a border run…

Channeling China

My flight was delayed, so it was night when I arrived at my destination: Hangzhou, China! Even more exciting was who greeted me at the airport... my dad! I hadn't seen in him in almost 3 months (or anyone from home, for that matter). It was the longest I’ve ever gone in my life without seeing my family. In the car he re-introduced me to his colleague John, and John's wife, Cheryl. They had been living in China for nearly two years. John manages a factory in Hangzhou that is a joint venture with the US company and my dad was on his first of many visits to work on a project there. Because he already knew about some of the crazier things that had happened to me thus far on my journey, he immediately began eliciting me to relate these stories. Cheryl promised she would show me around the city the next day.

I was ecstatically looking forward to our first stop: a tea house! As you probably understand, I am a tea fanatic and was overjoyed at the prospect of going to a country that shares a high appreciation for this wonderful beverage, particularly in terms of its having such a prevalent place in the history and culture of the local area as well: Hangzhou is famous for producing Long Jing green tea, one of the 5 Famous China teas and sometimes referred to as the national drink. As it turned out, the tea house was practically a tea mansion- there was space to accommodate a few hundred tea drinkers! At the same time, the intimate atmosphere was not compromised as the trickling of water in small decorative pools could be heard all around and little rooms offered privacy and calm. I also got my first taste of Chinese cuisine from the huge buffet that came free with the tea. Overall it was exactly my kind of place!

Hangzhou was a nice city, although if it wasn't for signs being written in Chinese and the fact that almost everyone I laid eyes on was Chinese, I might have thought I was in some city in America that I hadn't been to yet. Compared to the other cities I had by now visited in Asia, Hangzhou was incredibly "modern" and "developed" (of course, these terms are both relative and loaded). Indeed, I had actually had a bizarre kind of reverse culture-shock upon entering the four-star hotel with my giant backpack and travel clothes! Cheryl and I walked around near the famous West Lake, and watched large groups of people exercising and listening to karaoke. We visited a vast silk market which exposed me to more of this fabric than I had ever seen in my life (even in Thailand). We also quickly walked through the wet market to see what kinds of live swimming, scuttling, and crawling things were on offer; it was interesting to see that many more creatures than I could have imagined are apparently edible.

The next day we took off for Shanghai. I had expected to see long stretches of countryside, but what I got were more like glimpses. All along the highway, houses and apartments and stores and gas stations and factories clumped together; the presence of the green mountainous terrain in the background was one of the only reminders that I was not driving through the Flatlander suburbs of Chicago. When we arrived, we unloaded our luggage at the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen! In fact, it is ranked on a list of the top 100 hotels in the world (quite a big difference from staying in window-less concrete quarters with shared bathrooms in Bangkok). We woke up early the next morning to meet my dad’s other colleagues and got on the subway to go to the Science and Technology Museum. Only we weren’t going to the museum at all; we were going to the underground knock-off market. All of the fab designer items I never wanted in America were available here! Coach, Prada, Dolce and Gabana- I hardly knew the difference between the brands, but within two hours I would become an expert in haggling- under the tutelage of my dad’s colleague, Neil.

Neil was familiar with all of the different shopkeepers, the newest fashions, and the best deals. Even though he is not able to enjoy the purses for himself (he buys them for family members), the thrill of the bargain is enough to draw him back over and over again! Even more impressive were the saleswomen’s skills; each spoke 3 or 4 languages besides Chinese- I even overheard Spanish! The fact that these women were younger than me and didn’t have the same access to education I had had renewed my hope that I could still achieve my goal of learning 3 more languages before I’m 30. At night, we ate in a fancy rooftop restaurant overlooking the river and the Bund district (again, a far cry from my recent culinary habits, ie. eating food with my hands in the Himalayan foothills). I marveled at the skyline, which combined European-style architecture with Asian technology- traditional yellow city lights were intermingled with giant techno-color screens broadcasting serene shots of butterflies and flowers. On our walk back to our hotel, we were able to make out its glowing peak in the shape of a lotus flower crown- of course, we stopped to take an obligatory tourist photo with it framed on my head =)

Shanghai is a vast and sprawling metropolitan city; luckily, my dad knew his way around by metro, so I got to see many beautiful things in the city. We went to the Pudong area on the east side of the river, where many famous buildings are located, including the Shanghai World Financial Center, the Oriental Pearl Tower, and the Jin Mao Tower. We walked through the massive decorative gardens at the People’s Square, where citizens were glimpsing super-imposed photos in a walk-through display of personal ads. We ate in Xin Tian Di, an area with upscale restaurants situated on cobbled pedestrian streets. We took a round through a district filled with art galleries and restaurants serving many different types of cuisine from around the world (there was even an American 1950’s diner!)

Sunday was John’s birthday, so we joined him and Cheryl and headed to the Old City. We reached an area that looked like a scene from an epic martial arts movie, yet another of the many different faces of China. Red buildings with sloping roofs surrounded a square where hundreds of pedestrians milled about visiting ceramics shops, waiting in long lines for dumplings, or even getting their fix at Starbucks. We meandered over into the YuYuan Gardens. We roamed around the peaceful grounds, pausing to take pictures of the scenic koi-filled ponds intermingled with reproductions of old Chinese buildings, bridges, and stone archways from dynasties past. Crowds pressed in all around, but the tranquility was maintained as the beauty of the surroundings sent breezy vibrations of calmness to the passersby.

Suddenly, it happened. We all had been eyeing the path nervously the entire time, footholds worn well into the rocks, shiny as if water flowed regularly past. Once or twice I had slipped already. But unfortunately it was Cheryl who would feel the full impact of our dubious shuffle over such well-trodden trails. Her foot slid off one of the steps and her ankle immediately popped out of the socket (we all thought it had actually broken!) She was in a great deal of pain and we tried to make her comfortable as we considered how to transport her to a nearby hospital. First things first, I went on several hurried excursions to find a few items- the ice necessitated an explanation to a guard who didn’t speak English about why I should be allowed to exit and re-enter the garden; the Ibuprofen required reassurance to a Dutch woman that I was not using the drugs recreationally. After a short time, my dad and John were able to support Cheryl out of the garden and out to the street to hail a cab.

It turned out that Cheryl’s foot was sprained, so she would only have to use crutches for a short time. Ever the good hostess, she insisted that we all still carry out our plan of having a Packer Party at her house. So, the next day, we dutifully watched our team’s defeat more than 12 hours after it had aired back home.

Tales from Thailand- Bus Journey Backfire Part II

...There's been another police officer here the whole time?!?! Warily, I followed him across the divided highway at a safe distance. There was indeed another outpost for that direction of traffic, and he called out to whoever was there. First another policeman came out, soon followed by a woman. A woman! I'm saved! She was his wife, a few months pregnant, and behind her was another woman, who I somehow deduced was her sister. All of them spoke less English than Officer Creepy, but I tried to communicate primarily to them instead of having to rely on him as a translator because I still didn't trust him.

They invited me to sit down to dinner with them; a traditional "hot pot" meal was being served, made by adding different ingredients to a boiling soup. The family made sure to serve me the "best" ingredients first, which happened to be my least favorite foods- pork, sausage, and squid. I swallowed them down, hating every bite, but also thanking them profusely and sincerely- I understood that this family was honoring me greatly as a guest by making sure I got enough of what was probably not easy for them to afford.

I then got down to the business of trying to figure out how I would get out of there and where I would stay. Officer Creepy was still there, drinking whiskey (and offering some to me) and asking me exceedingly unnerving questions: "You like dance? You like date Thai man?" I opened my guidebook again, and called the first Nong Khai hostel on the list. A friendly Australian woman answered. I tried to explain my situation to her, but when she heard "police" she turned the call over to her manager, a Thai woman. I described as best I could where I was located and asked whether she could send transport for me. She answered that that would be impossible because taxis didn't go that far outside of the city. She asked to speak to one of the police officers. I offered the phone to the kind police officer, but Creepy passed in front of me and grabbed it. He walked around, speaking and nodding for a few minutes. Then he handed the phone back to me. The call was already ended. I told the family I would like to go to the guest house and asked how I could get there. The husband and wife discussed the directions between themselves in Thai (I could determine this based on their gestures) and then smiled and pointed to Creepy: "he'll take you."

I was seriously concerned at this point. Not only did this guy freak me out, he had been drinking a bit as well; I did not want to get in the car with him. However, given that my only other option would be hitchhiking (still too dangerous) and that this family, the guest house owner, and my friend in Chiang Mai all had an idea of where I was... I conceded. I threw my bag in the back seat of the police car and got into the front passenger seat.

I knew things were very wrong when, as soon as the highway post faded into the distance, he slowed the car waaaaaay down, until it was nearly crawling along the road. Then the officer asked "You need money? ATM is there"... and he pointed to deserted field! I lost it. I grabbed my phone and dialed my friend in Chiang Mai who spoke Spanish. I started explaining to her what was happening, and she advised me to stay on the line with her and escape the car once I could find a populated area. Since the officer didn't know who I was talking to or what I was saying, he kept driving... right into Nong Khai. I told him "Take me to my hotel please," he said "No, we go dance. We go Udon Thani (now 60k away!) I know good hotel."

I began to see people around, and we were going slowly around a corner, so I unlocked the door myself and started to get out of the car. He hit the brakes- I started shouting loudly "THANK YOU! GIVE ME MY BAG!" This was incredibly effective, as one of the worst things you can do in Thailand is to cause a scene- people there avoid conflict on principle. He unlocked the door and I grabbed my backpack out of the back of the car and hurried away. I walked to the nearest tuk-tuk I saw, told the driver the name of my lodging, and still had the sense to negotiate a price with him.

When I arrived at the guest house, several people were waiting around, including the two owners. They had kept the reception open because they knew I was coming and they were worried. Why? Because the officer had hung up on them and they also had no way to call the number back! Luckily I was safe now- I put my stuff in a room and went down to their bar on the river to have a drink and listen to live music. I felt nearly joyful to be sitting there with those folks- later the adrenaline wore off and I did have a breakdown, but I never once let myself think I wouldn't continue enjoying my travels =)
...

I ended up spending several more days in Nong Khai, having been extremely shaken up by the whole experience. The town was quite small and charming, but what really made my whole experience there was the hostel whose staff had really come through for me that night, Mut Mee Guest House. The room I stayed in was one of the nicest ones I had seen in my budget travels, with the cleanest and classiest shared-bathroom ever (stone tiled floor with river stone accents). I met some travelers in the garden/dining area and went on a bike ride with them around the town and the promenade along the river. We also went to the town's quirkiest treasure, an eclectic sculpture park even bigger than the Lao one, done by the same artist and combining the same influences of Buddhism and Hinduism. They were even almost directly across from each other on opposite sides of the river (the Lao one is actually visible from the Thai side of the Mekong).

The cement sculptures were extremely impressive, one of which was a 7-headed snake rising an indeterminable distance into the sky. Another area called the "Wheel of Life" depicted different stages of the human life cycle from conception to death, including such pivotal moments as "you as a fetus," "love," and "death of love". In the middle stood a tower of faces in the following order: Your Best Face- Your Most Evil Face- Again Your Best Face- Your Strange Face- Even Stranger Face- The Snake- Good Face- Zero. It always fascinates me the way that different cultures and religions think about different aspects of life; the strange stylization of these events somehow made sense to me, a way to present sensitive topics like death and divorce as just another thing that happens during life. Rather than feeling at all disturbed, I felt peaceful.

On my last night in Nong Khai, I was trying to figure out what to do. The guest house had its own dinner cruise, a boat that traveled west on the Mekong to follow the setting sun- quite the romantic activity. I hesitated slightly; it didn't seem like the kind of thing for a single person to do. But then I decided that that was all the more reason to do it! I boarded the boat- yep, definitely the only single person there- and had a very nice, relaxing time with my book, the BEST massaman curry I've ever had (slightly spicy), and the beautiful sunset =)

When I returned to Chiang Mai (12 hours by bus!), the Loi Krathong Festival was getting under way, something I had specifically stayed this long to see. This was also time to say goodbye to the good friends I had made at my guest house, as I had recently decided that since I would no longer be looking for a job in the area, it was time to move on from my beautiful adopted city and proceed to meet up with some other friends... in Indonesia!

Did you miss Part I? Click here!